


Where the blue roses grow

by SasuSoul



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst and Tragedy, Arranged Marriage, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Death, Falling In Love, First Love, Fisherman Keith, Forbidden Love, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hanahaki Disease, Hurt, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Love, M/M, MerMay 2019, Merperson Lance (Voltron), Sex, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Top Lance (Voltron), Tragedy, True Love, flower symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 01:53:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18885712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SasuSoul/pseuds/SasuSoul
Summary: Dwellers of the surface should forever be, denied of the knowledge of people at seaShould man meet mer one faithful night, one best keep oneself out of sight,unless one wishes to be huntedAnd should one be charmed by the likes of man, and wish to live one's life on land,seven long days one would have to endure, the pain of a disease with no known cure,flowers for the love that floweredLungs will be pierced and gills entrapped, from inside one's body the flowers attackAnd after the seven days have passed, when flowers and branches have all amassed,Tail becomes feet and feet become rootedA combination of mer-Lance, Hanahaki disease, and forbidden love. What more could you want?This is angsty af, you have hereby been warned.





	Where the blue roses grow

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do Mermay this year, and this angsty mess is the result of that desire. I've also wanted to write something Hanahaki-related ever since I read Exaigon's Detroit Become Human fic "Remembrances and eternal love" some months back (which I just recently remembered to bookmark, because I'm terrible at that cx Go read it btw, it's good stuff!), so I combined the two because I felt like it. 
> 
> This time around I've tried to tell the story in quite a different way from what I usually do, dabbling with some tragic fairytale vibes and a switching POV (which I am generally not the biggest fan of, but for this it felt necessary). I think I did ok, and I might end up writing more in this style in the future should a similar idea come to mind. 
> 
> Just for clarification: If you don't know, a marquess is the name of the next in line after a duke or duchess (I certainly did not know before looking it up) 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you will enjoy reading this, and that it will evoke some kind of emotion within you. After all, that was my main goal.
> 
> Note: The blue rose - Perhaps because the naturally growing blue rose does not exist and is just a dream, it has also become a symbol of unfulfilled longing and forbidden love.

_Dwellers of the surface should forever be, denied of the knowledge of people at sea_

_Should man meet mer one faithful night, one best keep oneself out of sight,_

_unless one wishes to be hunted_

 

 

Far off the Caribbean coast, among the crashing, crystal blue waves and storms of the sea, so deep down that you could place vast mountains who would not reach the surface, lies the kingdom of Altea, home of the merfolk. Alfor, King of the sea, and his subjects, inhabit a massive castle made of glimmering shells and glistening pearls as far as the eye can see, and around this castle expands a vast city where merfolk and fish live side by side in harmony.

Unlike what is described in the books of men, the seafloor is bursting with life, full of multicolored grass, plants and flowers, swaying in the water as though they had limbs to move as they wished. Carriages made from corals and rocks, carved with ancient symbols of a foreign land, are drawn by massive sea-creatures much like horses, but with fins instead of hooves and webbing for manes.

Today, one such carriage had brought with it a valuable load, in the form of a beautiful young marquess. He had tan skin that shimmered with gold when reflected by the sun, and a strong tail adorned with scales in all shades of blue and turquoise. His brown hair was wavy and light, never weighed down by the water, but his sapphire eyes carried a shadow of sorrow that even the shiniest of pearls could not brighten.

Lancelot Diaz, son of the Cuban duchess, heir to the western Caribbean Sea, was soon to be wed to the Princess Allura, completing the alliance between the western and eastern mermaid tribe. He had no say in the decision, and no matter how many times he wept and begged, his mamá only wiped his tears away and shoved him out the door.

“This is your faith, my boy. It is what must be done to unite our people once again, and prevent the breakout of another war.”

Ever since he was a guppy, only as big as a small tuna, his mamá and papá had prepared him for his destiny, and in the beginning, Lancelot had been more than willing to participate. He had fantasized many a time about marrying a princess and living in a castle, having as many pearls and mussels as he wished, and servants who followed his every whim. Lancelot and the princess Allura had grown up together, becoming close friends, and he had soon become smitten with infatuation.

One would think this was a favorable outcome, considering they were betrothed, but the affection he had felt was one-sided. In their early teens, the princess met another man, a handsome mershark with silvery hair and purple scales that swept her away with the waves. When her father had told the princess their love could not be, that she were to wed the duchess son and unite their people, Allura had blamed Lancelot for her pain and heartache. For years after years, and still to this day, she would barely even look him in the eyes, claiming it reminded her of the love she lost.

During this time, Lancelot lost his attraction to the princess, but familiar with her pain, heartache and suffering, did not once blame her for the harsh treatment she gave him. He tried his best to be a good friend and companion, giving her expensive gifts and participating in the rituals of courtship. Nevertheless, the princess wept day and night, and Lancelot wept with her. Both immensely saddened by the cruel fate set upon them by their parents.

The young mer peeked out of the carriage to view the massive Altean castle. From this day on, the city of Arus was his new home. In two short weeks, his marriage to the princess would be consummated, and his fate sealed for eternity. This made him heavy with sorrow, as he realized he would never get to experience true love. His guard and trusted companion, a golden-scaled merman named Hunk, placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. For he knew of the qualms the prince was going through, and wished he could marry Allura in his stead.

Arriving at the castle, the prince was shown to his living quarters, but immediately disappeared after the guards had left, his tail fins itching to swim properly again. The long journey in the carriage had made him stiff and weary, and he desperately needed to stretch out his tail and loosen up his muscles. Normally, his guard would have followed, but Hunk had long spoken of a pretty maid at the castle, and Lance knew his friend longed to speak with her once again.

After swimming with the dolphins for hours on end, occasionally dipping his head above the surface to feel the warm sun caress his skin, the young mer noticed how the waves grew dark and heavy, and stormy clouds gathered in the sky. Knowing the surface was not safe when storms drifted at sea, he prepared to leave for the castle, when a strange object ventured into sight.

To Lancelot, the wooden boat looked more like a massive shell floating in the water, somehow buoyant despite its weight. Aboard the boat was a figure he could not quite make out, but its demeanor seemed distressed, and the next thing he heard was a high-pitched scream for help, as the boat toppled, and the figure fell.

Without thinking, Lancelot threw himself out amidst the waves, swimming as fast as he could against the raging current. Closer and closer to the strange floating object, closer to the foreign creature, who seemed to have neither fins nor gills or a webbing.

Instead of floating, the creature swallowed water and gargled before it sank like a rock, and the prince dove down after it, grabbing around its waist and pulling it to the surface. Examining the creature, Lancelot saw that there were two growths were the tail should be. Each bare of scales and ending in oval, blunt ends instead of fins. The creature was clad in weird appendages that covered its skin and added to its weight, making it harder for Lance to keep them both afloat in the storm. It did not look like it belonged at sea at all.

Earthlings. Lancelot had heard of them. The many creatures that did not live in the sea, but instead above the surface, on dry land. Unlike merfolk, these creatures had no gills; their underdeveloped respiratory system was incapable of filtering the oxygen from the water. Lancelot shook his head. Silly, silly Earthling. Coming out to sea in the middle of a storm, not even knowing how to swim. Lucky that he was there to save the day.

Dragging the creature to shore, Lance examined it with great interest. The Earthling was unconscious, but still breathing, chest heaving and expanding slowly. Its upper body was much like his own, though the hands and ears lacked webbing and its skin did not shine as his did. A male, he presumed from the lack of mammaries, his skin white like porcelain and his hair black as the back of an orca. Lancelot brushed his hair aside and admired his long eyelashes and plump lips. This creature was more beautiful than any pearl or conch he had ever seen, he could not take his eyes off him.

Suddenly, the creature coughed, and water spattered from his mouth. Alarmed, Lancelot pushed back, lowering his tail into the water, readying his escape. Warnings from his late abuela, the Shaman, rose from his subconscious. Gruesome tales of the Walkers, Earthlings with two growths, feet, in place of a tail. Growths that made them capable of walking on land. Horrendous beasts that attacked anything they came across, vicious savages that once had tried to eradicate merfolk from existence.

 

 _‘If you see them – swim; swim away as fast as you can. And never return to the place where you met.’_ Her voice echoed in his mind, strong and full of conviction.

 

Could it be? But he seemed so harmless, so weak.

Coughing again, the Walker opened his eyes, looking directly at Lancelot. They were grey and hazy, not quite able to focus on their surroundings. In the reflection of the moonlight, they shone like amethysts, captivating him and leaving him immobilized. Before the Walker could reach out for him, the young merman freed himself from his gaze and dove into the ocean as fast as he could, leaving miles between him and the creature within minutes. He did not stop swimming until he was far out at sea, stopping to steady his erratic heartbeat. What scared him the most was not the Walker, but his own recklessness and curiosity. Baffled by his own behavior, he vowed never to swim near the shore again.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith rubbed a sore spot at the back of his head, gazing out at the waves. He must have hit his head hard, envisioning such an ethereal being. Only in legends had the young fisherman heard tales of people living under the sea: Nauticals, or merfolk in common tongue. None had spotted them in centuries, and most men agreed that they were only figments of sailors’ and pirates’ imagination.

Yet Keith was certain he had seen a flash of blue scales, in all shades from dark marine to light cyan and vivid turquoise. Surely, his mind had not conjured up those mesmerizing blue eyes staring down at him as he abruptly woke from his coma, ears ornate with blue flakes and connected with sticky webbing. It was too clear of a memory to be a hallucination. Clearly, he was going insane.

Sitting up, he realized his boat was nowhere to be seen. Strange. He could not have drifted ashore by himself in this heavy storm; he would most certainly be crushed against the pointy rocks of the reef. Had the creature really been there, and more importantly, had it saved him?

 

* * *

 

 

The next night, Keith loaned a boat from a fellow townsman, and once again ventured out at sea. This time he had brought no gear for fishing, he had only one goal in sight. Scouting for the merfolk from his row-boat, he was deflected when he saw no signs of them, only a shoal of mackerels swimming by his bow, their silver scales reflecting against the surface of the water.

“Hello?” He called out, feeling ludicrous as he stood in his boat and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Merman? Are you there? I wanted to thank you for saving me! If it were not for you I would have drowned.” As expected, there was no reply. Fantasy or not, what were the odds that the merman even understood him? He probably spoke a language of his own, far different from the one used above water. A sigh of defeat could be heard as Keith sat back down in the boat. He would wait a little while longer, and then he would row to shore, never speaking of this again.

What the young fisherman knew not, was that he was being watched from behind the closest of the reefs. Lancelot’s head was floating just below the surface, eyeing his every movement curiously. Silly Earthling. Why would he return to sea when he was clearly not equipped for swimming? Lancelot had to stay close by so he did not get hurt. At least that was his excuse as he drifted nearer by the minute, ignoring his fear of the Walker, captivated by his beauty.

Graceful he was not, Lancelot thought, and chuckled as he stumbled in the little boat, letting out a string of curses. He silently hoped the man was more adept at land, as there was no way for Lancelot to protect him there. For hours, he silently observed the Earthling, who scoured the waters and sighed with sorrow, making Lancelot’s heart ache with sympathy. Was he really so upset that he did not show? Should he reveal himself so he would go back to shore?

Again, his abuela’s voice echoed in his mind, filling him with unease and keeping him on his tail fin. She spoke of an ancient verse, a curse who fell upon those who meddled to closely with Earthlings, especially the Walkers. A shiver went down his spine at the thought of being speared to death, having his flesh eaten and scales ripped from his tail, but the creature in the boat had no weapons. Silly Earthling. Did he not know that Lancelot had sharper teeth than a white shark, capable of ripping him to shreds if he came too close? There was no way he would win a fight barehanded.

Unless he was not intent on fighting. Maybe he was merely curious, much like Lancelot himself. The merman was not allowed to ponder that thought for long.

A loud splash broke the surface of the water, as the fisherman gripped the boat and leaned left, causing it to topple over. Lightly threading the water, Keith gripped on to the edge of the boat and looked out towards the horizon, hoping to see a glimpse of his savior. Was the water indeed too still for him to believe it was an accident? Did he think Keith could handle this by himself now that there was no storm? Defeated, Keith moved to turn the boat over, only to realize this was a much greater task than he had anticipated.

He was in the water. The silly Earthling had once again managed to fall out of his vessel and was now flailing helplessly around, gripping to it like a lifeline. Lancelot shook his head in disbelief. A merciless killer?  Most certainly not. Even a guppy could run away from this being unscathed.

With a splash of his tail, Lancelot was streamlining through the water, and within a minute, he was right by the Walker’s side, causing him to yelp like a baby seagull.

“You’re real!” he gasped, swallowing water in the process, and Lancelot had to put an arm around his waist to secure him as he flailed in the water. Now that he was close by, he could understand the foreign language if he focused on the vocal chords, the quintessence radiating from them enabling him to speak in the Walker’s tongue, albeit a little poorly.

“Of course, I am!” he replied, mildly offended, which caused the man to yelp again, his eyes widening dramatically.

“You can talk? I mean… How do you speak English?” Keith stammered, staring at the merman in fascination and horror. He merely shrugged, poking at his Adam’s apple.

“I just follow the flow of your quintessence,” he said, as if that was an obvious fact, and then continued, “English? Is that the name of this strange language you are speaking?” Keith nodded, and then looked down, seeing a blue tail—much like the one in his dream—disappear beneath the surface of the water.

“We should get you to shore, you’re no good in water without a tail,” the merman said, hoisting Keith up on his back. He was about to protest, seeing as he _did_ know how to swim, if only a little, but kept his mouth shut. This was probably the only chance he had to get this close to such a mesmerizing being, he should make the most of it.

Forgetting about the boat completely, Keith laid pliantly on the merman’s back as he swam to a nearby grotto, hoisting him up on the dry sand. In the dim moonlight of the cave, his scales shone like sapphires and diamonds, and Keith had to keep himself from reaching out to touch them, considering that would probably be very rude.

“Thank you for saving me. Again,” he added, smiling fondly down at the merman, “I am Keith, what is your name?” he extended his hand, but his savior only looked at it dumbfounded.

“Lancelot,” he said, and then nodded courtly. Keith nodded back.

“Is Lance ok?” He then gripped Lance’s hand and shook it slowly, slotting their fingers together. “This is how we greet on Earth,” he explained, smiling down at Lance with brilliant white teeth. Lance nodded eagerly, seemingly pleased with his new nickname.

 _Keith_. A strange name for a beautiful specimen. A beautiful man currently ridding himself of his wet and sticky linen shirt, revealing perk nipples and a torso similar to Lancelot’s, with a small strip of hair trailing down from what looked like a shallow pool on his stomach. Curious, Lancelot pointed at Keith’s navel with a finger.

“What is that?” Keith smiled and guided his hand to his stomach, allowing him to feel where his skin dipped. Lancelot’s fingers trembled with excitement at the touch.

“It’s where the human fetuses gets nutrition from their mother before they’re born. A string is connected to the mother’s stomach, and that’s how they feed.” Puzzled, Lancelot poked the hole, and Keith twitched beneath him.

“I’m sorry. Did that hurt?” Keith shook his head, but moved Lancelot’s hand away from him, which he had to admit was slightly disappointing. However, the disappointment was soon overrun by curiosity as he kept asking his new acquaintance questions.

“What is a human?” Keith chuckled lightly.

“I am,” he responded, “or, that’s what we call ourselves at least.” Then he cocked his head and looked at Lance. “And you are a merman. I thought your kind did not exist.” Now it was Lance’s turn to chuckle. Silly Earthling, so naïve, unaware of the many inhabitants of the sea.

“Well, here I am,” he stretched out his arms for emphasis. Keith laughed nervously, his silvery voice echoing through the small cave. Then Lance’s tone turned more serious. “Please don’t tell anyone. Our people have lived in peace for centuries. We do not want a war.”

Keith nodded in understanding. He knew the human race had not been the kindest in the past, and like Lance, he suspected that the existence of merfolk would spur a hunt for their hard, shiny scales, as they seemed attractive for both jewelry and armor. He did not want his new friend to preyed on. In fact, he rather enjoyed his company, and was happy he had been able to lure him out from the reef.

Speaking of scales, Lance had pushed himself fully out of the water, his tail curled up next to him, making Keith able to admire it up close. The scales started blending with his skin around mid-torso, covering what would have been his abdomen and nether regions in hard flakes of various shades of blue. They seemed soft to the touch, but still hard and solid, as though covered in a sticky substance that made them glimmer when the light reflected from the moon. Keith wished he could reach out to confirm it, but did not want to overstep any boundaries. Lance, however, must have seen his curious eyes, because soon a webbed hand guided his pale fingers onto the midsection of his tail.

Keith stroked, and Lance shuddered lightly. He did not seem in pain, rather as if he was enjoying himself. Getting braver, Keith stroked again, tentatively moving his fingers along the curve of Lance’s tail, from his hip all the way down to his tail fin. Feeling the sticky yet firm shells covering his entire lower half. A small, high-pitched sound escaped from him, and Lance clasped a hand over his mouth in embarrassment. Keith smirked, slowly repeating the motion, pressing down a tad bit harder.

“Aaaah…” a soft pink flush appeared on the merman’s cheeks, and he hid his face in the sand. However, he made no motion for Keith to stop.

“Does that feel good?” he whispered, his voice heavy with fascination and a hint of lust. Who would have thought that touching a sea creature would turn him on? Lance nodded, still blushing, and muttered “Sensitive,” flopping his tail lightly. He could not believe this beautiful creature was touching his tail, one of his most intimate parts, seemingly enraptured by the color of his scales.

When he was a guppy, the other mermen had picked on Lancelot for having blue scales. They said it was such a boring color, blending in with the ocean. No one would ever want a merman with such a pedestrian looking tail, but Keith was admiring it as if it was a piece of art, stroking along the scales and pulling lightly at them to feel the texture. Lancelot was keening under his ministrations, feeling his cock harden in its sheath beneath his scales. He had never had his tail touched like this before, not by anyone but himself. It felt heavenly.

Suddenly aware of his own embarrassing behavior, Lancelot quickly shoved Keith’s hand away, dipping his tail back into the water behind him. Perplexed, Keith looked up at him with hurt eyes, as a pet who did not quite understand how it had disobeyed its owner.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked innocently, and Lancelot shook his head, but kept his tail below the surface.

“It’s just… I do not normally let others touch my tail. It’s private,” he mumbled, biting nervously on the skin of his thumb. _Oh_ , so Keith had interpreted that correctly. How interesting.

“Sorry. I will not do it again,” he said, before adding, “Unless you want me to,” the slight hopefulness in his voice making him feel pathetic. Lance looked away, pink making its way to the curve of his cheekbones.

“Maybe some other time…” he said, playing with a lock of his short brown hair. Keith smiled fondly at him and nodded, the idea of meeting Lance again making his heart skip a beat. He had to admit he was more than a little curious about this creature. Shifting uneasily in the water, Lance looked up at him through long, brown lashes.

“I should probably head home before mamá starts looking for me,” he said, splashing his tail and shifting his torso toward the sea. Mom? Wait. Was this a child? Had Keith..? Nervously, he cleared his throat.

“Umm… How old are you?”

“Sixteen summers,” he grinned up at him, “soon mamá will not be able to tell me where to go anymore.” Keith let out a sigh of relief. That was only three years between them, making the heat that had spread in his abdomen an acceptable reaction to their intimacy. Embarrassing, but acceptable.

“Will I see you again?” Keith asked as Lance turned to leave, once again abashed by his own anticipation. Lance smiled up at him, his face the only part of his body that breached the surface.

“If you want to,” he smiled, revealing a row of sharp, pearly teeth that Keith admitted made him slightly nervous. But he trusted that the man who had saved his life not only once, but twice, would not set out to hurt him.

Sensing Keith’s unease, Lance retracted his fangs, his teeth now appearing much like Keith’s own. Camouflage. Keith could not decide whether this made him more or less uneasy.

“Come back tomorrow,” Keith pleaded, “I promise I will not bring anyone with me.” Lance nodded briefly, before disappearing beneath the surface, vanishing in a sea of bubbles as he propelled his tail at full speed. The young mer giggled all the way home, his stomached filled with bubbles. For he had found a treasure more breathtaking than any pearl the ocean could offer.

 

* * *

 

 

_And should one be charmed by the likes of man, and wish to live one's life on land,_

_seven long days one would have to endure, the pain of a disease with no known cure,_

_flowers for the love that flowered_

 

 

The next day came and went, and at sundown, Lancelot returned to the shallow grotto, heart hammering heavy in his chest. He had made sure his guard was busy before he left—which was easy considering he spent all his time flirting with the maid—and hid behind the massive stone pillar at the entrance until the coast was clear. He was so excited he was certain his stomach would burst, the prospect of seeing his treasure again filling him with warmth and giddiness.

Entering the cave, he was met with a dreadful sight. Sparks of red and orange, hot and heavy and filling the cave with an ominous light, licked up against the walls. The smell of smoke filled the tiny cave, and right next to this dangerous explosion of energy sat his human, his treasure, seemingly completely unaware of the peril he would soon be in. Lancelot screamed and splashed his tail heavily to alert him, and he fell back on his butt petrified, before eyeing him with a slightly amused look. Why was this so entertaining to him? He was clearly in danger.

“Get away! The red monster will eat you up! I have seen what it does to the forests, only black sand remains when it is done havocking!” To his surprise, Keith only laughed, and leaned in to hold his hand over the sparks, nearly touching them. Foolish, silly Earthling. Did Lancelot have to protect him from everything?

“Relax. The fire will not harm me. I made it. I am using it to keep warm.” Lancelot let the message sink in. The Walkers, lords of the sparkling, red monster called “The fire”. Were they the ones who burned down the forests on land? Was this why so many creatures, merfolk included, feared them?

“You made the fire?” Lance asked in awe, and Keith merely shrugged, gesturing to the wood piled beneath it.

“Yes, it’s not that difficult really. Besides, the water is right there, so it will do you no harm.” His friend did not seem convinced by this, so Keith decided to demonstrate. Besides, he was warm now; he did not need the fire anymore.

Moving to the edge of the water, Keith gathered a pool in his hands, splashing it at the fire, who immediately extinguished with a sizzling sound. Lance gazed up at him in awe and admiration, and Keith could not help but smirk. It was sure easy to impress his new companion.

“See? Not dangerous at all. Are you coming to shore?” he asked, patting the bank of sand next to him gently. With a strong flick of his tail, Lance was right there next to him, pushing his body onto land with the strength of his arms. And they were strong arms indeed. Keith bit his lower lip, appreciating Lance’s form. He truly was as alluring as he remembered.

Just as the previous times they met, Keith was wearing heavy materials to cover up his body, as though he was embarrassed of it. However, from what Lance had seen the night before, he had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. He remembered how soft and clean his alabaster skin had looked; the complete opposite of Lancelot’s rough, calloused tan, filled with tiny specs that glimmered like gold. Too intrigued by the man in front of him to be ashamed, Lancelot decided to learn as much as he could about his treasure.

“Why are you wearing that?” Lance gestured to Keith’s linen shirt and dark cotton pants. Keith shrugged, not sure what to answer. He supposed it was odd for someone who was not used to covering up; it was only natural for him to be curious. Crossing his legs, Keith straightened his spine as he tried to think of the best response to the question.

“Well, it’s for protection. My skin is weak and soft, like the one on your face, all over my body. I need it to stay warm and avoid harm. It is also a cultural thing. The other humans would be quite shocked if I walked around bare like you do.” He added, his eyes flickering to the sand.

Lancelot smiled fondly up at his treasure. Silly Earthling. No scales to protect him, nor sharp teeth to fight with. How come he had not been eaten already? Lancelot wished he could bring him down to the seafloor and keep him safe, away from harm. This world was far too dangerous for such a fragile being.

He cocked an eyebrow at Keith, scooting closer. “Why would they be shocked? Do they not see how handsome you are?” Keith felt his heart stutter and his palms grow sweaty. Handsome? Him? How could this absolute ethereal being find _him_ attractive? He was so incredibly plain in comparison to Lance’s beauty. Too embarrassed to meet his eyes, Keith instead spoke to Lance’s tail fin, which flopped eagerly from time to time.

“It’s not about that… Though I don’t think they find me especially interesting. No human walks around bare among others. We don’t really show off our bodies unless we mate.” _Oh_. Lancelot pondered on that for a while, comparing it to the sheathing of his genitals beneath his scales. Some sort of puritan ritual. It made more sense that way. The other Walkers not finding Keith attractive though, that part made zero sense to him.

Nevertheless, he did not dwell on that. There were far too many questions he wanted to ask Keith; so much he wished to learn. Therefore, he did just that. Probed and prodded until his tongue felt dry and his brain heavy with all the new information. One of the things he found most exciting was how the humans ate. If they caught wild animals, they could not even devour them raw like most predators, they had to cook them over “The fire” in order to consume them safely. Another thing to add to the list of reasons why Keith was helpless without his protection.

Once Lancelot was done questioning, they switched, and Keith eagerly asked him about life at sea. Lancelot proudly told him how he was fast enough to catch even the big, blue-finned tunas, gesturing wildly as he described how fast he zoomed through the water. It was important that Keith knew he could provide for him, that Lancelot was strong and fast and agile. That he would protect him from sharks, octopi, and all other evils that might come after him. When Keith nodded and praised his strength and skill, Lancelot keened and wagged his tail proudly. No one would harm his treasure as long as he were around.

Without warning, Keith stretched out his hand and gently caressed Lance’s cheek, brushing from his jawline down to his collarbone. He leaned into the touch, closing his eyes and sighing appreciatively.

“Where are your gills? I mean, you do breathe underwater?” Keith asked, lightly patting his neck for emphasis. Lance leaned his head back and exposed his neck further, revealing four sharp lines in his skin that had not been there previously. They were on both sides of his throat, and when he moved it, they flickered outward, revealing moist, red flesh beneath the surface. Keith tentatively touched one of them, gently hooked his finger beneath the line and followed along the flesh. Lance winced slightly at the touch, but stayed still, trusting him completely.

“I’m sorry. Did it hurt? I just wanted to… feel.” He mumbled, retracting his fingers. Lance cocked his head, crystal blue orbs penetrating Keith’s core.

“It’s ok. I was just surprised. I’m not used to being touched there… Or anywhere really,” he added, flushing pink as a salmon. Keith leaned in closer, his breath tickling in Lance’s ear.

“I thought people would stand in line to touch someone as beautiful as you,” Keith smirked as he leaned back, seeing Lance’s pink hue deepening even more. He bit his lip, folded his hands in his lap, and flickered his eyes away, channeling sad and hurt. Did Keith do something wrong?

“They say I’m too bland, too ordinary… I don’t have pretty golden scales like Hunk or silver locks like Allura…” Shocked and in disbelief, Keith cupped Lance’s hands and bored his violet orbs into his eyes, staring at him with the intensity of a thousand suns.

“You are anything but ordinary,” he whispered, leaning in to close the gap between them. His lips brushed over Lance’s without touching, silently asking for permission to move further. As Lance’s eyelids fluttered shut and he quickly wet his lips with his tongue, Keith pressed their mouths together, his pulse bashing in his throat as he felt Lance press back.

Lancelot moved his lips in tandem with Keith’s, quickly finding a rhythm. The kiss was salty and wet, and he could feel the rough skin on Keith’s lips brushing against his smooth ones. It was truly pleasurable, this new sensation, nothing like anything he had ever felt before. Soon, Keith’s mouth opened, and his tongue prodded gently at Lancelot’s lips, coaxing them to slip apart and reveal his own. Keith led their tongues in a dance that made Lancelot’s mind grow hazy, and a quiet moan involuntarily slipped from his lips. This only seemed to encourage Keith, who lifted his hand and carded long, pale fingers into Lancelot’s hair, lightly pulling at his scalp.

Another moan escaped him, and he could feel Keith smirk against his lips. Although he knew he should not do this, Lancelot kept leaning in, kept kissing Keith with fervor until his lips were red and sore. A faint voice at the back of his mind whispered: _you are betrothed to the princess_ , but he pushed it away. For she could not even stand the sight of him, but Keith, Keith thought he was beautiful.

How could this be wrong when it felt so right?

“Lance…” Keith moaned into the kiss, making his heart proud and full. It was his doing; he made him feel this good, this happy. Him and no one else. Lancelot gripped onto Keith’s hair and kissed him harder, not caring that their teeth clashed, but making sure to keep his fangs retracted the entire time. He would never forgive himself if he hurt his treasure.

They had to pull back eventually, both gasping for air, sighing contently when oxygen filled their lungs. A string of saliva fell from Keith’s mouth, and Lance wiped it off his chin with his thumb, feeling Keith’s lip tremble under his touch.

“That was…” Keith didn’t manage to finish his sentence, there were no words quite fitting to what he felt in that moment. All he wanted was to hold Lance tight and never let go. But he knew he could not have that. This boy belonged at sea, and where he dived, Keith could not follow. Still, a man could dream.

The moon was at its brightest for the night, signaling Lancelot’s departure. He did not want to leave his treasure behind, not after what he just experienced. It did not feel right, did not feel safe. The vast unknowns of the Earth might harm him while he was gone. Someone could come and take Keith away from him. He stared up at the moon, eyes clouded with sorrow, mind deep in thought.

“You have to go?” Keith’s voice sounded sad and sour, which in turn made Lancelot feel guilty. Nodding, he climbed back into the water, but not before he had taken Keith’s hands in his, gripping them tight.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” The fisherman asked, hopefulness filling his voice. Lancelot nodded again, smiling up at him with enamored eyes.

“I will come back every day if you want me to,” he promised, kissing pale fingertips one by one, making Keith hide his face in the collar of his shirt.

“Promise?” he whispered, and Lance promised, even though he knew he would not be able to keep it. Once his wedding was consummated, his duties to the kingdom would keep him too occupied to visit the shore. Besides, the princess and her lackeys would be entitled to know his whereabouts at all times, making it impossible for him to sneak away. For the first time ever, Lancelot found himself longing for a life beyond the sea. Despite his love for swimming in the ocean, being trapped in this body separated him from Keith. Now that he knew of him, Lancelot could not imagine a life worth living without his treasure by his side.

That night in his nest, he fell ill. Piercing stings of pain, like the burns of a jellyfish, filled his throat and engorged it. He coughed and coughed for minutes on end, and on his bedding landed a single blue rose, covered in blood. Echoing in his mind were two simple words: _forbidden love._

 

* * *

 

 

When he came ashore the next night, Keith was nowhere to be seen. Lancelot called for him, weeping silently when no one replied, terrified of what might have happened to him. How foolish was he, to leave his treasure without protection? He knew Keith was fragile. No claws, no fangs, no scales or fur to shield him. Silly Earthling, what had he gotten himself into this time? Did he not know that Lancelot could not help him on land?

When Keith finally emerged from the darkness of the cave, dirty clothes clinging to his figure, Lancelot let out the biggest sigh of relief, his lungs collapsing in on him. He promptly pushed himself to shore and pulled Keith into a tight embrace, hissing into his ear, nostrils flaring.

“Are you hurt? I thought you were gone forever,” he wailed, hugging him impossibly tight, relaxing only when Keith’s arms wrapped around him to hug him back.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I have to work extra hours to pay my neighbors back since I lost their boat. I did not think it would take this long…” Lancelot pulled back, slightly confused, cocking his head before addressing Keith again.

“What is a boat?” he asked, lifting a brow, and Keith chuckled. Of course, just because he had seen one did not mean he knew what it was. Clearing his throat, Keith sat down on the sand and patted the ground next to him. Lance immediately shuffled closer, sitting so near that the edge of his tail landed in Keith’s lap. They both blushed at that, but neither moved to change their positioning.

“It’s the vessel I used to float in the ocean,” Keith explained, “since I’ve now lost both my own and my friend’s; we have no way to fish efficiently anymore.” At the mention of the strange floating vessel, apparently called a boat, Lancelot’s eyes narrowed and his mouth turned into a frown.

“No more boats,” he said bluntly, gripping onto Keith’s hand, “if you fall when I’m not here the sharks will eat you; and if the sharks won’t eat you the waves will crush you. Too dangerous,” he pouted, and Keith felt his heart expand. To see Lance worry about him made him feel special, loved. Still, he needed him to understand that this was necessary. No boats, no fish, and Keith needed fish to survive just as much as Lance did. There were no other sources of meat nearby.

“But I need to eat, Lance. How will I get fish with no boat?” As soon as he uttered his sentence, Lance disappeared into the ocean. Minutes passed, and the ripples he had left soon faded away, leaving the water still and blank, with no sign of life beneath the surface. What was he doing? When would he come back? His friend left so abruptly, and without explanation. Keith did not know what to think.

Soon, bubbles began to form below the surface, and Keith caught the glimpse of something blue and shimmering beneath the waves. When Lance hoisted himself up on the beach, he was not alone; his mouth filled with two fresh tunas, so big and juicy that Keith’s mouth immediately watered. He had not eaten all day, and the prospect of getting his hands on one of those fish made his stomach rumble loudly with excitement. Lance heard him and snickered, before dropping the fish in his lap, smacking his tail proudly into the water.

“See you don’t need any boat. I can give you all the fish you want,” Keith was about to point out how inconvenient that would be for him, but seeing Lance so pleased with himself made him stop in his tracks. What so if Keith still needed to get a boat? Lance did not need to know that. He made such a great effort to show he could provide for him, the only thing Keith should do was shower him with gratitude.

“I caught the fattest and tastiest one just for you. Had to chase it _all_ the way down to the seafloor. It almost got away, but then I pounced,” Lance moved his hand like a jaw biting over prey, straightening and flexing his tail confidently. Keith caught him off guard mid-bragging, leaning forward to plant as soft kiss on his forehead. The mer gazed up at him, blue eyes sparkling with endearment.

“Thank you,” he said, channeling the same love and passion back at him, pausing to gently graze his thumb over Lance’s lips, “You are such a sweet boy, always taking care of me,” Lance nodded up at him, keening from the praise.

“Anything for you,” he said lovingly, and Keith felt blood rush to his cheeks. Smiling, he put his hands on his knees and stood up, brushing sand from his trousers. Perplexed, Lance tugged at his pant-leg.

“Are you leaving?” he asked, voice laced with a hint of sadness. Keith shook his head, removing Lance’s hand.

“I need to make a fire so I can taste the fish. Can’t let all your hard work go to waste, can I?” Lance visibly relaxed, nodding in agreement, though he still seemed worried when Keith ventured off into the dark alone. He could not help but chuckle at his behavior, his heart light and his stomach full of butterflies. It seemed Lance thought monsters roamed the landmasses on Earth, waiting to strike at every turn. If that had been the case, how had Keith managed to live long enough for Lance to find him? Despite his incoherent line of thought, Keith appreciated Lance’s efforts to keep him safe and provided for. For the first time in his life, he felt like someone truly appreciated him for who he was. Caring for him despite his flaws. Maybe even loving him. His blood sang in his veins at the thought.

Returning with firewood, Keith convinced Lance to share the fish with him, cooking one for each of them over the bright burning flames. Lance still did not trust the fire, eyeing it suspiciously and making sure Keith was not leaning in too close. His over-protectiveness left Keith both flattered and embarrassed.

After Lance spat out the fish and complained about how “the cursed fire” ruined the taste, rinsing his tongue off in the water, Keith was left to eat both tunas on his own. He devoured them like a starved bear, secretly thankful that Lance did not wish to partake in the meal. It had been long between proper meals for Keith as of late, and he feared it might be longer until he could eat again. The mortgage on the boat cost him all the gold he earned in his working hours, making food scarcer and scarcer each day. Still, he found himself vowing to Lance that he would bring some proper human food for him to taste. He could not deny those pleading blue eyes.

They stayed for a little while longer, kissing passionately beneath the stars. Lancelot’s heart was full but his stomach heavy, for he could feel the strange bushes and vines growing inside of him, cutting up his insides and making him yelp in pain. He masked the sounds as best as he could, lacing them with moans and gasps of pleasure. Keith did not seem to notice, too caught up in their loving embrace.

A pleasant rush spread through Keith’s veins, and he could feel his blood gather in his groin, growing hard at Lance’s skillful ministrations. The softness of his lips and the hunger with which he kissed him made Keith whimper, and he willingly obliged when Lance gently laid him down in the sand.

Kissing down his chest, Lance removed Keith’s linen shirt button by button, eagerly licking up beads of sweat from his pecs and abdomen. A warm tongue swiped over Keith’s left nipple and he whimpered loudly, arching his back off the sand in a graceful bow. Everywhere Lance touched him; his body grew hot and oversensitive, the pleasure making his insides tingle and tremble. Lance glanced down at the bulge in his trousers, and Keith looked away bashfully, covering his face in his hands.

Peeking through his fingers, he saw Lance admire his body, eyes trailing over him from top to bottom, biting down on his lower lip, eyes half-lidded and lustful. This made Keith braver, and on his own accord, he lowered his hands to his crotch and unbuttoned his pants, still avoiding Lance’s now intrigued gaze.

A hand came down to join his at the side of his hip bone, and Lance leaned over to whisper in his ear, a sound so seductive Keith could only whine softly in reply.

“Can I..?” Keith nodded shyly, lifting his butt to allow Lance to slide down his pants and undergarments. Keith’s heart pounded with the speed of a thousand horses as his cock sprung free, and he nervously looked up at Lance to search for a reaction. What if he did not like his genitalia at all? Maybe they were too different from his own, if he even had any. For all Keith knew, Lance could be procreating in a very different way, and he did not want to disappoint his lover.

“You’re beautiful,” Lancelot whispered, admiring Keith’s naked body in all its glory. His member was hard as a pole, protruding from his abdomen but not sheathed like Lancelot’s, his balls hanging unprotected beneath it. Silly Earthling. Could not even take proper care of his own nether regions. What if a fish came and bit him?

Even so, his cock was beautiful. Long, slim and pulsing, slightly pink and flushed at the head. Lancelot carefully moved his hand to touch it, dipping his finger into the tiny slit at the top. Keith moaned, and Lancelot was pleased, so he did it again. Anything to bring such alluring harmonies from his treasure. He started stroking slowly, reveling in Keith’s writhing and whimpering beneath him, drinking up his pleasure as if it was the most luscious liquid ever made.

Then a hand came over to bring his to a halt, and he looked up at Keith with worry. Had he misunderstood? Did he not want to do this? But when their eyes met he was calmed by the passion in his violet orbs and the clear lust exuding from him, lips slightly parted and chest heaving.

“You’re prettier than the shiniest of pearls,” he spoke to Keith fondly, his voice laced with a love he thought he would never get to feel.

“Can I see you..? Ah… I mean, do you have..?” Keith fumbled with his words, but it was hard not to understand what he meant. Lance happily obliged, allowing the scales in front of his abdomen to slip aside, revealing two holes, one significantly larger than the other. The skin beneath his scales was tan with a blueish hue, and Keith could see something hard and sticky barely poking out of the lower hole, making him shudder in anticipation. Was that..? It had to be.

Below the smaller hole he presumed was Lance’s anus, was a hole more slick, filled with a strange fluid of sorts. However, what held Keith’s attention was the long, thick member that was slowly pushing out from it, significantly larger than Keith’s own. Like his skin, it was a mixture of tan and blue, covered in some form of sticky, translucent self-lubrication. If Lance was as willing as he looked to be, that might come in very handy, he thought, and blushed from his own inappropriateness.

That night, he was more intimate with Lance than he had ever been with another man. It never felt wrong or uncomfortable, just new and exhilarating, and when he led Lance’s fingers to his puckered pink hole, all he could feel was overwhelming love and desire.

At first, Lancelot did not understand what Keith wanted him to do, nervously splaying his hand over his left buttock, squeezing gently. Why would he want him to touch there? Did it feel good? And why did his hand keep moving over Lancelot’s own, guiding it back towards his opening, eyes begging for a relief he did not know how to provide?

“Your finger…” Keith moaned, gesturing at his hole with his own. Lancelot cocked his head, still not quite understanding what he meant. “Inside me. Put your finger inside me. Please,” he added, gently pushing Lance’s pinky against his ring muscle. Slowly, he guided him inside, and Lancelot felt the muscles of Keith’s anus contract around him as it swallowed his knuckle. Another moan escaped Keith’s mouth, sounding more desperate than the others had, and Lancelot smiled. He enjoyed this. Keith enjoyed this activity and wanted to share it with him. He happily obliged, pushing his finger all the way inside.

Keith’s anus seemed much more pliable than his own was, his walls stretching with Lancelot’s touch, much like he supposed a vagina would. Not that he had ever touched one, and if he had, he was sure it would not come close to the sensation he was filled with as Keith clenched around him once again, mumbling incoherently. What would it be like to slip inside him? Have that muscle wrap around his member and pull him close. Only the thought of it made drops of precome form on his tip, sending shivers from his spine down to his tail fin.

Eager to experience that feeling, chasing an insatiable high, Lancelot tentatively inserted another finger, causing Keith to scream and arch his back once more. Moving them in and out of his opening, Lancelot leaned over to catch his lover’s lips, teasing him with his tongue as he stretched him with his fingers. Keith moaned his name repeatedly, gripping tightly to his shoulders and rutting up against him with fervor and intensity, his eyes filled with a manic desire.

A third finger, then a fourth, and soon Keith was exploding beneath him, ropes of white shooting from his cock as he called Lance’s name. Lance removed his fingers, and Keith whimpered from the loss, reaching out to touch Lance’s pulsing member with trembling fingers. There was no doubt in his mind; he wanted Lance to fill him to the brink, over and over. In that moment, nothing else mattered. His cock twitched back to life from the mere thought of it.

Sitting up, Keith placed himself in Lance’s lap, giving his member a few strokes before leading it to his entrance. They both sighed as he sank down, shuddering in mutual pleasure at the newfound sensation. Holding Keith close, Lance helped him lift himself up and sink back down, groaning loudly at the provided friction. Keith fucked him slowly, savoring the sensation of being full and satisfied. Being whole. A unity.

“Treasure… My treasure,” Lance whispered softly against Keith’s lips, and he shuddered with the impact of the words. Their lips molded together like pieces of clay, and in that moment, they both felt as if they finally belonged somewhere.

Soon, they both felt that glorious warmth spreading in their lower bellies, collapsing on top of each other in a pile of limbs, come and sweat. They stayed close despite the sand sticking to their naked bodies, too entrapped in each other to feel the discomfort, stickiness and cold. Kissing slowly, lovingly, capturing the moment and forever imprinting it to memory.

When midnight struck and it was time to leave, Lancelot felt a petal tickle at front of his throat, but willed it back down with his tongue. For just a minute longer, he would pretend that everything was ok. He did not want to worry his treasure.

Keith sensed an unease in Lance as he left, as if something filled the air. A tension not spoken of, but still ever present. Shrugging it off as nothing, he waved goodbye to his lover, promising to bring him food he had no money to buy. At this point, Keith did not care about his debt as long as he could put a smile on Lance’s precious face and see the glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

Back in town, he pawned his mother’s old pocket watch to afford fresh berries and honey at the market, hoping he would once earn the money to rebuy it, and eager to see the look on Lance’s face when he could finally taste them.

 

* * *

 

 

_Lungs will be pierced and gills entrapped, from inside one's body the flowers attack_

_And after the seven days have passed, when flowers and branches have all amassed,_

_Tail becomes feet and feet become rooted_

 

That night, Keith eagerly returned to the cave, his hard-earned money spent on luxuries instead of larger quanta of the simple food he needed to survive. Anxious and excited, he waited, wondering what Lance would think of the gifts he had brought, reminiscing of their escapades the previous night. Half an hour passed, and Keith figured Lance was only late. Something kept him occupied for longer than intended, but soon, he would come. Keith was sure of it.

After the second hour, he became worried, and when the third hit, he panicked. Had something happened to his lover to keep him away from him like this? Was he out there somewhere, in the deep, vast ocean, hurting and calling out for his help? Terrified, Keith called out to him in the dead of night, but no one replied. What if Lance was no longer with him? What if Keith could never see him again?

However, Lance was strong and capable; he had fought off both sharks and heavy storms before, emerging unscathed and with his head held high. When four hours had passed, Keith started doubting. Had their night together really meant as much for Lance as it had for him? Was it possible he had only been deceived to believe this creature cared for him?

No. He refused to believe that. Lance would come. Keith just had to wait for a little while longer, and the he would pierce through the surface of the water as he always did, smiling that precious smile.

Six hours. Six long hours Keith waited before he decided to leave. Wiping his tears away, eyes red and sore from crying, he dragged himself back to the village. Frustrated, he threw the basket of berries at a nearby wall and screamed from the top of his lungs. Then he collapsed on the sidewalk in tears, clutching the jar of honey to his chest. Lance would not leave him, would he? Everyone seemed to leave him. His mother, his father, his brother… He could not bear another loss that grave. He did not know how to survive it.

 

_‘Treasure… My treasure.’_

No. He would come. Keith would return to the cave tomorrow and Lance would be there. This was only a mistake, he convinced himself. For any other option would be too painful to consider.

When Lancelot returned to the castle that night, a cobble of guards stood ready by his quarters, somber and determined. Despite his protests, they locked him up in his room, saying he was not to leave again until he had wed the princess. They had observed how far away he traveled, and were concerned he was trying to escape from his contract and break the alliance. Even his mamá supported their decision. She reprimanded him that night, sitting on his bedside, her son pleading and in tears in front of her. But she did not change her mind. He was to marry the princess, so was his duty to the kingdom.

As soon as she left, Lancelot collapsed in his nest, feeling thorns protrude from his throat and mouth. A handful blue roses escaped from him, petals flying across the room. Looking down at his hands, he saw spatters of blood and gasped in fear. Composing himself, Lancelot picked up the petals, cleaned his hands, and pinched away the thorns on his neck. No one could see the proof of his indecent actions; they would slay him alive. A familiar whisper caressed his ear like a faint wind, making him shudder: _Forbidden love._

Each day he turned gradually worse, trapped in his chambers with nowhere to run. The flowers sprung more often, growing both in size and in number. Thorns and stalks trapped his gills and made it difficult to breathe, and whenever he tried to speak, he coughed blood.

However, Lance worried not about his own predicament. His only concerns were for his treasure. What would Keith think of him now, lost and abandoned at shore with no one to protect him? Was he safe? Did he miss him? Had Lance broken his fragile heart? He needed to see him. Needed to touch him again, if only one last time. He needed to tell him he loved him.

Three days and three nights had passed since Lancelot returned, and by this rate, he was unsure whether he would survive another. A single thought was stuck in his mind: he had to get to shore.

That night when the guards switched shifts, Lance snuck out behind the massive pole and waited; and once they turned away, he swam as fast as his tail fin could carry him.

While he swam, he felt his tail grow stiff and heavy, the scales losing their healthy blue shine. Soon, they were all grey, and his tail started shredding to pieces before his eyes, revealing tan, blemished skin beneath it.

Panicked, Lancelot desperately propelled forward using his arms, desperate to get to shore before he seemingly disintegrated. He flexed all his muscles, but his body felt heavy and unadapted to the water, making him struggle to swim fluently. As his scales shredded from his lower body, growths similar to Keith’s legs were revealed beneath them. Soon his tail split in two, and toes started replacing his strong, glittering fin.

Lancelot cried out in pain, but kept persisting. He would reach the surface. Then he would use his newly gained growths to find Keith and keep him safe like he had promised. The pain was nearly unbearable, but soon he glimpsed the entrance to their secret grotto, and used his final strength to push himself through the water. Feeling the skin on his neck retract and his gills slowly disappearing, Lancelot burst through to the surface, filling his lungs with the fresh air he had been denied. What was this transformation happening to him?

Coughing, he felt another rose push through his throat and out of his mouth as he pulled himself up on the sand, collapsing right there on the edge of the water. Blood seeped from his neck and forehead as thorns pierced through his skin and roses sprouted from his nostrils. He tried to fill his lungs and scream for Keith, but stalks and petals blocked them, and thorns rasped through his already damaged vocal chords. Terrified, Lancelot watched as his legs once again started transforming, thick branches emerging and plunging into the sand below him.

They dug deep into the ground, settling roots in the dirt beneath the sand, and Lancelot cried as his abdomen and chest slowly turned into thorns, bark and blades. His tears were small petals, and his screams merely thorns pushing through his mouth as his body transformed. Soon, all that was left of the young marquess was a simple bush, adorned with a flurry of blue roses.

Keith had not given up hope. He was just tired. Tired from waiting hour upon hour every night. Tired from working at ungodly hours to be able to afford to feed. Tired from crying himself to sleep while whispering Lance’s name. Tired enough to be a few minutes late to their scheduled meeting time at the grotto, not too concerned about it because Lance never seemed to show anymore. Unfortunately, those few minutes would ruin them both forever.

When Keith entered the cave, an uneasiness immediately crept over him. He had no clue as to what it was, but his entire body was suddenly cold and shuddering, his blood feeling like ice in his veins. Once he saw it, he somehow knew what it meant right away, running over to the bush like a mad man. For it had the same nuances of blue on its flowers and petals as the pattern of Lance’s tail, and Keith did not believe in coincidences.

Heartbroken and confused, he embraced the bush with tears streaming down his face. How was this possible? Only legends spoke of such a disease, and Keith thought… Keith thought this could not happen to someone that was _loved_. Someone that was truly cared for. His heart was weeping in his chest, his whole body trembling as he whispered into the night, the wind carrying his words far out at sea.

“But I loved him _… I loved him_.”

Keith abandoned everything he had to nurture the bush, trimming and watering it every single day. His hands grew tired and sore from the thorns, but he did not bat an eye. His stomach growled with hunger, but he never stopped to eat. For he would never leave his lover’s side again. He promised.

On the fifth day, he collapsed from fatigue, and was found malnourished and pale by his fellow citizens. They buried him beneath the bush he so carefully had nurtured, and by this united the lovers on their final journey.

To this day, the bush still flowers in the grotto by the beach, and every single year on the day of their fated meeting, it sprouts a single red rose among the blue ones. A symbol of true love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> If you liked it, I would really appreciate it if you dropped a kudos, bookmark or comment down below, sharing why you enjoyed my story. It really makes me want to work harder and improve. Also, if you have any merfolk klance fics to recommend, please drop them down below - I would love to read some. 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr: @sasusoul 
> 
> Ciao!


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